Page 1 of Storm to Victory
Chapter
One
Major Fieran Laesornysh peered over the side of his aeroplane, taking in the Whitehurst Mountains spreading as far as he could see. The Half-Breed Squadron roared in his wake with Merrik in position as his wingman and the others staggered into a formation stretching across the sky and several aeroplanes deep.
Far below, a river sparkled, carving its way through the mountains while thick green forests covered the mountains all the way to their peaks, the leaves tinged with the occasional hint of red or gold in the first blush of coming autumn.
On a dirt road winding through the Engleston Gap through the mountains, a line of dwarven tanks and Escarlish trucks rumbled over the dirt path, heading toward the front on the other side. Thanks to the troll and dwarven stone magic and to the dwarven skill in getting heavy armored vehicles through mountainous terrain, the Alliance had turned two of the main mountain passes into invasion routes into Mongavaria.
Puffs of smoke on the horizon marked where Mongavarian soldiers attempted to hold off the invading Alliance armies. High in the sky above them, aeroplanes whirled and dodged as they fought, the handful of Mongavarian pilots putting up a goodfight against the rather inexperienced Aerial Knights Squadron, the newest squadron in the Alliance Flying Corps. At least their captain had been picked from Capt. Fleetwood’s squadron, so one of the pilots had some previous experience.
When Fieran glanced at the dashboard, the indicator lights for radio channels 1 and 2 were blinking, showing there was radio chatter in range. As his squadron was on channel 1, that must mean the Aerial Knights were on channel 2.
The newly installed, updated radio in his Defender had five channels compared to the two of the previous radio. The first three channels were reserved for the Flying Corps squadrons so that different squadrons could be on separate channels to reduce confusion during battle. The fourth channel was designated for communicating with ground troops and the fifth channel for airships.
The airships and ground troops had additional channels Fieran didn’t have so that they could communicate without cluttering the channels used for coordinating between air and land. Lights on the dashboard showed when a channel was active.
Fieran flipped the switch to change from channel 1 to channel 2, and the chatter changed to a flurry of unfamiliar voices. “Aerial Knights, this is Maj. Laesornysh of the Half-Breed Squadron. We’re coming up on your six and would appreciate it if you didn’t shoot us. Over.”
“Half-Breed, this is Capt. Crelford. Roger. Over.” A high tenor voice with a highbrow Escarlish tone cut through the rest of the voices. He used the new alphabet code for R, meaning “received” or “message received.”
“Need any assistance in the air before we proceed with our ground strike? Over.” Fieran studied the battle both in the sky and on the ground as best he could from that distance.
“We have the skies handled, Half-Breed. Over.”
Okay, so he’d probably mildly insulted the captain by asking if he needed help, but he’d had to ask. “Have any of those machines been spotted? Over.”
“Not by my men. Over.”
“Roger that. Out.” Fieran flipped his radio back to channel 1. “Half-Breed, the Aerial Knights have the skies handled, but I’d like a rearguard to protect the rest of us when we make our run.”
“Roger.” Merrik, as the commander of Flight B, rattled off a few names to form the overwatch.
Fieran didn’t wait for him to finish organizing, trusting Merrik to have it handled, before he flipped the radio channel again, this time to channel 4. “Half-Breed to Foe Hammer. Over.”
Fieran waited for a moment before he repeated the call. A light on the truck-mounted radio used by infantry troops would be flashing, alerting the infantry’s radioman that there was activity on the radio channel.
After another moment, a new voice answered, “Half-Breed, this is Foe Hammer. Over.”
“We’re a minute out and coming in hot.” Fieran tried to judge the distances as he and the other aeroplanes neared the Mongavarian foothills, roaring toward the battle ahead. “Any update to the original strike coordinates? Over.”
There was a pause. Probably the radioman reporting to his superior officers. After a few seconds, his voice came again. “We’ve pushed the enemy farther than expected. Do not—I repeat—do not strike the original coordinates.” The man gave new coordinates about five hundred yards farther into Mongavaria.
“Roger.” Fieran repeated the coordinates for confirmation, just to make sure. If he were to guess, the Alliance armies were now located at the old coordinates, and the last thing Fieran wanted to do was lead a strike on his own side.
Fieran probably should have been given the updated coordinates long before now, but the army was still getting used to the fact that they had radios for communication and that they could cooperate with those in the air. Everyone was still learning how to use everything from the radios to the military letter code to the system of coordinates.
The radioman’s voice came over the radio again. “We’re starting the shelling with the magic flares. Over.”
“Roger that. Out.” Fieran flipped back to channel 1, dropping into the middle of his squadron’s lively chatter. They were a little infamous for cluttering up the radio with nonsense compared the far more proper radio communications of many other units. “Half-Breed, Foe Hammer should start shelling the Mongavarian line with the magic flares soon. We have new strike coordinates.”
He repeated them to make sure everyone had them. His pilots would be following him and would do whatever he did, but he didn’t want any mistakes, even if this was far from the first strike they’d executed in the past week.
With three warriors with the magic of the ancient kings—Dacha, Adry, and Rhohen—pushing the invasion from Fort Defense, the Alliance had sent Fieran to be the mobile warrior with that type of magic. He and the Half-Breed Squadron had flown back and forth between the two invasions through the Barringstall Pass and the Engleston Gap to provide a magical punch before the ground armies, greatly reinforced with dwarven heavy armor units, swept in with the hammer blow.
While only the dwarven kingdom of Dalorbor had signed a treaty with the Alliance, the other three dwarven kingdoms were still sending raw materials and work crews to the Alliance. Or at least to Dalorbor if they didn’t want contact with the Alliance directly.
Still, even one kingdom of dwarves was enough to tip the military scales in the Alliance’s favor.
